Star Nova's Story Dump

Sunday, September 4, 2016

Somehow,
Sonja had managed to doze off. She awoke with a terrible whip in her
neck and every bone as stiff as stone. But the cellar door was
opening, and the sudden rush of afternoon sun chased away the
darkness of her prison. In spite of the pain, Sonja jerked her head
in the direction of the door and mentally listed the choice words
that she had for her subordinates for keeping her waiting so long.
She let out a furious cry when she saw that it was the psychic making
her way down the stairs towards her.

“Well,
hello to you too,” Eluani dryly greeted her as she began undoing
the restraints. “You might want to keep a better attitude; a few
friends have dropped by to see you.”

“What
did you do to them?” Sonja was furious. These brutes didn't have
the right to push around her
subordinates! “You'll see in just a few moments,” Eluani
answered, rubbing down Sonja's newly-released wrists and ankles. “Now
come with me, and if you don't cooperate, I'll just bind you and
you'll end up right back here.”

“Go
to hell,” Sonja snapped, but she made no attempt to resist. What
the hell is wrong with you, Sonja? Sonja
chided herself. Why
are you submitting? Just knock her sorry ass out, and then she can't
bind a damn thing! But
she remembered Eluani's abilities and quickly took her thoughts away.
After spending the night being manhandled, smacked around, taken
advantage of, and subsequently thrown away like a pile of trash, the
very idea of freedom was enough to move her to compliance, even if
she knew that the freedom was not real. The feeling of walking on her
own two feet again almost brought a smile to her face, as did the
grass beneath her bare feet and the warmth of the sun's rays as she
emerged from the cellar. In her newfound vigor, she fought back the
thoughts of escape, and anyway, she wanted to see what had become of
her subordinates. From the way Eluani spoke of them, they were still
alive...

Eluani led her around to
the front gate, and there they were: Rowley and Shattick, tied up
like potato sacks and stupidly blinking like confused animals. Sonja
had to will herself not to break away and give them both a good hard
slap. They had both freedom and magic, and still couldn't manage to
evade capture! Now they had been reduced to Sonja's own condition,
stripped and bound and completely useless. It served them right for
being so worthless.

“Ma'am!” Rowley and
Shattick called out in unison, bowing their heads low. Sonja sighed,
wishing they had remained silent so she could pretend she had never
seen them before in her life. She felt their shame as she passed her
critical eye over their sorry forms. “Unfortunately, yes,” was
her response to Eluani's question.

“Excellent,” Eluani
said. “Now, why are they here?”

You
know damn well why they're here, Sonja
thought scornfully. “Here for me, I suppose,” she replied with no
emotion. Her subordinates refused to look up.

“Congratulations,” said
Morgana, “you've officially caused more trouble than you're worth.
Your little friends just about did us in, and if it wasn't for....”
She was silenced by a look from Ion. “Well, you've long overstayed
your welcome,” she went on, “and we can't be bothered to keep you
around any longer. Oh, hello, here comes your chariot right now.”

Sonja turned her head to
the sound of hoofbeats, and beheld the approach of Rasta's army,
dressed in their gaudy red and gold and mounted upon those
preposterous mechanical horses. At their head was the Princess
Cordelia herself, with a sword at her side. Sonja glowered and
quickly turned her head before she could be recognized.

“Hail, knights,”
Cordelia said with a nod, dismounting her horse. The knights of Rasta
followed in unison, as if part of a choreographed line. It made no
difference that Sonja wouldn't look at her. “Sonja Farrell,” the
princess said almost accusingly. “I had a very strong feeling that
I would run into you.”

“I'm sure your idea of a
meeting went a little differently than this,” Sonja said
sarcastically.

“Well, yes,” Cordelia
said with a mischievous glint in her eye, “but this makes it so
much easier for me.” She waved to her men. “Take them in.”

Ion
and Troy tightened their grip on Shattick and Rowley's arms and
handed them over to the knights of Rasta. Sonja's hands were bound by
thick cords that cut into her wrists, still raw from their previous
restraints. Oh,
bloody hell! She
shot Rowley and Shattick a dangerous look.

“Whatever you have
planned for us,” Rowley said pitifully, “it will never be
enough.”

“Shut up,” was all that
Sonja had to say to him.

For
the first time in his life, Magus did not want to keep out of the
way.
The window in Lovisa's chamber did not allow him a glimpse of the
prisoners, but whenever he tried to slip out, Lovisa caught him and
called him back. His stealth rarely failed him, but she had some
uncanny ability to detect him even when he was at his quietest. It
only added to how magical she was in his eyes.

But
his former guardians were out there. To hear that they were so close
by filled Magus with cold terror, and the only thing that would set
him straight was to take just one look at them in their disgrace. The
trio that had given him merry hell for the past year was now in the
custody of the Knights of the Jewel. Magus could believe that Rowley
and Shattick had been captured—after all, he had helped that
along—but Sonja Farrell had never been captured. Sonja Farrell
never submitted to anyone. Nobody could manage to apprehend Sonja
Farrell for very long. Magus couldn't believe such a wild thing just
because he had been told. He just had to see for himself.
Concealment,
concealment, Magus
mulled over to himself, a
spell of concealment. He
was very familiar with cloaking spells and camouflage, but at this
moment they evaded his memory. Perhaps it was because Lovisa was
watching. There was nothing to be done without sneaking away first.
He sighed deeply.

“You
okay, Magus?” Lovisa asked, waiting patiently for him to make his
move in the board game they were playing. He wouldn't answer her. “I
know this is scary,” she went on, “knowing that they're
here.”
How did she do that? How was she able to read him so effectively?
Nobody else had ever been able to do that before. “But that's why
you have to stay right here, safe and sound, until they're taken away
into the city. They can't get at you, Magus. We won't let them!”

“Thank
goodness for that,” Magus said dryly. How could he explain that it
wasn't about being scared, he just wanted to see
them, so he could believe that they had really been detained? How
could he explain the catharsis he would feel upon seeing his
tormentors bound and imprisoned? She was so easy to talk to, but he
just didn't have the words for everything. He took his next move,
landing on a blank orange square.

Lovisa took the dice and
played with them in the palm of her hand. “Leana told me you want
to learn to heal,” she said.

“I
do,” Magus said without hesitation, thankful for the subject
change. “Or rather, I know how to heal...or, I knew
how to heal. I just...”

“You've forgotten,”
Lovisa said, “and you want to learn it all again.”

“That's exactly it!”
exclaimed Magus.

Lovisa
rolled the dice and made her move, landing on a red square that
awarded her three coins. “Well, Magus, there's very little that I
can tell you about healing magic right now,” she said honestly,
“because I'm still very new to it myself. But there's a lot that I
can tell you about healing.
Back
in Eridell, my homeland, I was a healer too. I lived in a little
commune with other healers. Every day, some poor souls would come to
us with nasty wounds, terrible aches and pains, sniffles and coughs
that they just couldn't shake. We would have to know the right
combination of herbs, oils, and essences that would take their pain
away.”

“Did you?” Magus asked
hopefully.

“We did,” Lovisa said
with a nod. “Let me tell you, Magus, there is no better feeling in
the world than setting the right remedy. Nothing in this world has
ever filled me with greater joy than the relief on someone's face as
they start to feel well again. I lived for those days when a client
would return to us with a smile on their face, entirely free of any
aches and pains, thanking us for what we had done. I live to heal.
The Jewel knows that, and that's why it chose me for a healer.”

“It
didn't choose
you for a healer,” Magus remarked. “You already were one.”

“I wouldn't want to be
anything else,” Lovisa said wistfully.

“I
want to know that feeling,” Magus told her. “I want to feel that
good after making somebody else feel good.” He was pierced by a
pang of guilt as he imagined the many recipients of his magical
arsenal coming to Lovisa with all of the damage that he had caused:
skin as red and mottled as a bacon rasher from a fire spell, ugly red
marks from the impact of magical energy, the grey, necrotic frostbite
that resulted from a blast of sheer cold. He shuddered. “I don't
want to cause anymore pain, Lovisa,” he said almost pleadingly.
Even so, he thought back to his latest targets, whom he had struck
hard enough to render unconscious. I
had to, he
quickly told himself. I
had to protect my friends. But
still, pain was pain, and he had caused it...

Lovisa reached across the
table to take Magus' hand. “I want you to know the feeling,” she
said, “because I promise you, it is one of the most wonderful in
the entire world. You can heal, Magus. I know you have the ability.
It's just all locked up inside of you, and we're going to unlock it
together.”

God,
I love her, Magus
thought as he settled down enough to take his next move. But then a
new worry struck him: “What if we can't? What if it's been locked
up too long for that?”

Magus
believed that she could find it. At times like this, it seemed as
though she could do anything at all. Her kindness, her beauty, her
innocence, and her magical quality were so much more befitting of
some otherworldly being than an ordinary girl from a healers'
commune. Perhaps
she is, Magus
thought. I've
never heard of this “Eridell,” after all. It certainly sounds
like some other world to me...

“The
Jewel!” Lovisa exclaimed so suddenly that Magus jumped up from his
seat. “What about it?” he cried. “Has something happened?”

“No, no...” Lovisa's
thoughts were moving too fast for her to keep up with them. She rose
from her seat, laid the dice on the table, and held out her hand for
Magus. “Come with me, Magus,” she said brightly. “There's
someone I would like you to meet.”

Magus could have floated
out of his skin. All at once, he had forgotten about the captives
outside. He had forgotten who they were and what they meant to him.
He didn't care about anything at all, only that he was going to see
the Jewel.

“Go
on in, Magus,” Lovisa said warmly, as if she was inviting him to
tea. But Magus didn't dare. His feet, which had been so light and
free, had grown heavy again. He hated it. He wanted to fight against
the imaginary chains that held his feet to the floor, to defy them by
taking a step forward. I
can't, he
told himself. I'm
the enemy. The
Jewel's light—eight lights in eight colors—filled his vision. He
blinked against it, got the disconcerting feeling that he was gazing
upon a real god, and turned his head away. That light was not for him
to look at.

Lovisa held him by his
shaking hand. She took one step and then another, as naturally as if
she was entering her own home. She chuckled when Magus dragged his
feet. “You don't have to be afraid of the Jewel, Magus,” she
assured him. “The Jewel cares for us.”

A
nice chat with the Jewel? How
was one supposed to speak with the Jewel? Would it be through prayer,
the same as speaking to a god? Could the Jewel itself speak, and if
so, could someone like him understand it. It was plain that Lovisa
had spoken with the Jewel before, but how often? He had a hundred
questions, and he kept them all to himself. He didn't feel as though
he had a right to speak in this place. As he was led further into the
Jewel's chamber, and the image of the Jewel in all of its light and
glory grew closer, he was overcome by a wonderfully cozy feeling; it
was as if he was back in the soft bed in Lovisa's chamber, wrapped up
in silken blankets, with the warm sun touching his face. He tasted
milk, sweetbreads, and pancakes again, and again he felt the delight
that came with learning that such good foods existed in the world.
Again, he was pulled into the warmth of Lovisa's arms. Again, the
archmage kissed his face and said she would be delighted to look
after “such a nice young man.” The heavy feeling in his feet had
gone away, and again he felt as though he could take off and fly.
“What's it doing to me, Lovisa?” he blurted out before he could
stop himself.

“The same as it does for
everyone,” Lovisa said brightly ,with some understanding.

Without hesitation, Lovisa
made her way to the dais where the Jewel stood, which Magus thought
to be the bravest thing that she had ever done. “Good afternoon,”
she said to the Jewel. “I hope that you are well.” She gracefully
curtsied. “You know Magus,” Lovisa went on. “He's doing very
well now. Why, just look at him!” She put her arm around him and
propelled him towards the Jewel, and Magus only took the steps to
keep from being swept off of his feet. “We've taken the best care
of him that we possibly could, and now he has a home with the king's
archmage.” She patted him fondly, as if he was a finished project
that she was proud of.

Was the Jewel actually
speaking to her then? She was silent, her face intent and interested
as if listening for a voice unheard. Magus searched the Jewel's
colorful gleams for a hint of a response—a change in the pattern, a
shift in the colors, anything at all. But if the Jewel had a voice,
then it really was not meant for him. A tear rolled down his cheek.
“I'm...I'm sorry,” he choked out.

“What is it, Magus?”
Lovisa asked concernedly.

“I'm
sorry,” Magus said again. “I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry I'm bad.
I'm sorry I'm the enemy. I'm sorry, Jewel, lovely Jewel...I'm so
sorry!”
He buried his face in his hands. “I never wanted to cause any
trouble. I never did!”

“My
dear boy, you are no enemy of mine.” The
voice was not heard by his ears, but inside of his mind, like a
comforting thought that had just occurred to him. It was neither male
nor female, and certainly could not be called human. But at the sound
of it, all of his anxiety left him. He felt as though he was sitting
in the arms of a kindly relative who had invited him into her home,
though he had never experienced such a thing and had no family to
speak of. He wiped the last of his tears and his racing heart slowed
to normalcy. “I
allowed you into my palace and ensured that you would be properly fed
and cared for. I would never extend such courtesies to an enemy. My
dear, you are an unlucky young man who's found himself in an
unfortunate place. Misfortune alone dictates that we must be in
opposition. But it is misfortune that creates good fortune, after
all.”

“Really?”
Magus spoke without realizing he had.

“Of
course,” the
Jewel answered back, its colorful gleams shifting and pulsing in tune
with its words.

“As you must have figured
by now,” Lovisa said, “Magus is a very kind and gentle boy. And
yet the same misfortune that puts him on the side of our enemies
dictates that he must be used for destruction! But that isn't him.
He's no destroyer! Jewel, you've granted me my own healing magic by
assessing what was already inside of me, what I was already capable
of. Could you do anything like that for Magus?”

“There
is nothing for me to grant him,” the
Jewel responded. “He
is already equipped with such abilities. All that he must do is bring
them to the surface.”

“But
how can I?” Magus asked. “Will you teach me?”

“You
don't need me to teach you, Magus,” the
Jewel told him calmly. “I
have already given you someone who can: Lovisa, my Knight of the
Turquoise. The healing arts are her craft, and everything that I
know, I have passed along to my knights.”

Oh
goodness, Lovisa
thought to herself. She trusted the Jewel, and she never wanted to
question it, but clearly it had so much more confidence in her than
she had in herself. Healing had been her craft since she was a young
girl, but healing magic was something entirely new to her. Though she
had learned it well, she certainly couldn't call herself a master,
and it was far too soon for her to take on a student. But Magus
looked at her hopefully, his youthful face so full of promise and so
full of faith in his dear friend who, in his eyes, knew just about
everything. “If Magus needs me to teach him,” Lovisa said at
last, “then I will do just that.”

“You
will do well,” the
Jewel said with unwavering certainty.

Neither
of them had anything left to say. Lovisa led Magus out of the
Jewel's chamber, and Magus had to will his feet to stay fixed upon
firm ground. In this moment he wanted nothing more than to soar as
high into the air as he possibly could.

Sunday, July 10, 2016

To
Morgana's right, Eluani stood stock-still, channeling all of her
concentration into the verification of the woman's answers.
“Lieutenant Sonja J. Farrell,” the woman answered monotonously,
“Master Archmage of the Aldinian military. My commanding officer
for this particular mission was King Harkinian himself, though this
was an unusual case. Normally, I defer to Captain Roy Shuster.”

Morgana
looked to Eluani, who nodded in the affirmative. “And what exactly
is the nature of this particular mission of yours?” Morgana asked,
holding the ball of energy threateningly high.

“I
think you will,” said Morgana. “Why was the boy in your care?
What were you using
him for?”

“I'll
say no more!” Sonja insisted, and she steeled herself against the
sting on her right cheek. She gritted her teeth against the feeling
of a hundred needles stabbing her face, leaving behind a burning
sensation that lingered. Eluani took a few steps forward, looking her
over with the expectant eyes that reduced her to the level of a worm
being toyed with by a child. Morgana readied another ball of energy,
this one a brighter red than the last. “I'll ask again,” she said
dangerously, “what were you using that boy for?”

For
Aldine, I will endure! Sonja
willed herself as she was hit by the second blast. For
my army, for my people, for my king, I will endure! Another
blast seared her forehead, and she bit down on her tongue. It
angers them, she
thought with relish. My
resistance angers them, and they can do nothing about it but smack me
around like brutes! But
Sonja had forgotten about the psychic, who whispered in Morgana's
ear, and the satisfaction on the fairy's face told her exactly what
had been said. Oh
hell! Sonja
involuntarily recoiled, and was infuriated by the smirk on Morgana's
face when she caught her at it. “You've forgotten that you can't
hide anything from me,” she taunted. “Anything you hide, I will
find out sooner rather than later. Knowing that, don't you think it
would benefit you to just answer the questions and avoid the
consequences? Unless, of course, you are enjoying this.”

“You'll never get any
information out of me!” Sonja told her. “I don't give a damn how
else you get it, so long as that holds true! For my king, I shall
remain silent!”

“You're quite the loyal
one,” Morgana said, “or else you're incredibly indoctrinated.
Which one is it, do you think?” She regarded Sonja as if expecting
a genuine answer. She received nothing but determined silence, and
she sighed and shook her head. “So I suppose this spell isn't
cutting it,” she went on. “Perhaps you're just a little too used
to it. Perhaps I need to turn up the heat.” With a flick of her
fingers, the energy balls were swapped out for two deep orange
fireballs, dancing wildly as if taunting their would-be victim. But
Eluani caught her by the shoulder and pulled her aside. “It isn't
going to work,” she whispered. “She's far more willing to endure
the pain than she is to give anything up. Keep this up, and you're
more likely to kill her before she talks. Let me take over from here.
If I can make her feel secure enough, then I can sift through her
mind with ease.”

“Everyone has a breaking
point, Eluani,” Morgana told her. “The more we wear her down, the
closer she gets to cracking. The mind can be turned off, but physical
endurance can only go so far.”

“We could be here all
night and then some before we're able to break her,” Eluani said,
“and that's if we don't kill her first. I think you underestimate
how stubborn humans can really be, Morgana.” She turned back to the
prisoner then, regarding her with a smile that was so kind and serene
that it came off as dissonant and unsettling. “All right, Miss
Farrell,” she said, as if speaking to a frightened child, “if you
don't wish to talk, then we won't keep trying to force you. After
all, force only works against those who are willing to be forced.
It's very late and we're all quite exhausted, and I know you are as
well. You may sleep now, if you wish.”

“You're not fooling
anyone,” Sonja told her. “I'll worry about sleep when all
psychics and psychos get out of my sight. Until then, I will be
keeping at least one of these eyes wide open and fixed upon you. But
thank you for your permission. I can honestly say that you are the
most generous pair of torturers I've ever had.”

“Well, Morgana and I
won't be going anywhere, I'm afraid,” Eluani told her. “Knowing
that, you may do what you wish.” She pulled an old chair over to
the mage's side and settled down, and Sonja defiantly turned her head
away from her. “Morgana,” Eluani said with a voice like honey,
“will you go and fetch a cover and a pillow for our guest? And then
you can catch some sleep yourself, if you wish. I'll be up for a
while.”

“I sleep in the day,”
Morgana reminded her. “And why should I trouble myself with the
comfort of the enemy? She can wake up with a whip in her neck, for
all I care.”

“Morgana,”
Eluani said patiently, “go and get her a blanket and a pillow.”
With a groan, Morgana went off to do as she was told. At
least I don't have to waste time making a bed for her, she
consoled herself. I'll
draw the line at that!

This sudden cordiality from
her captor only heightened Sonja's anxieties. “What in the world
are you thinking, mind-reader?” she asked maliciously, and received
nothing but the most infuriating grin for an answer. “You cannot
expect me to believe you haven't got something up your sleeve!” She
shot Eluani a glare that she was sure could kill in the right
circumstances. “I'd rather curl up in dog shit than accept any
accommodations from you.”

“I'm afraid that we don't
have any of that on hand,” Eluani replied, “so what I can provide
will have to do.”

“Burn
in hell,” Sonja spat out, turning her head away again and forcing
her heavy eyes to remain open. She turned her thoughts to her
subordinates, who were surely on their way to reclaim her. Or
at least, they had better be, she
thought bitterly, or
else they had better be dead!

The
only indicator that the day had come was the tiny sliver of light
filtering through a slot in the cellar doors. The fairy and the
psychic were gone, and in spite of the pillow Sonja had been so
generously provided, she had a terrible ache in her neck and
shoulders. She could not remember when she had fallen asleep, but
between then and now, anything that had been on her mind had been
given up to the psychic. “Bloody
hell!” she
hollered, and unleashed a stream of further obscenities that would
have shocked the city drunks. Her racket attracted the attention of
Ion, who flung open the cellar doors and swiftly dealt her a heavy
blow to the face. “Silence, vermin!” he hollered, and she shut
her eyes against the dizziness that followed. “Good morning to you
too,” she said dryly once she regained her senses.

“Look at you, carrying on
like a filthy bar brawler without a lick of sense! What a fine way
for someone of your caliber to behave!”

“You
people aren't much better!” she said against her better judgement,
and he struck her again. Red-hot fury rose within her as she fought
to regain her wind. “You got what you wanted!” she shouted at
him. “Your psychic friend found what she was looking for and sucked
it all up like a sponge to kitchen water! What did she have to say
about me? Go on, tell me everything! It's not as if I don't already
know!” But Ion simply glared at her and left her alone in her
misery, ignoring the obscenities and attacks upon his character that
she cast at him as he departed. “These people are disgusting!”
she said aloud as he slammed the cellar door. “A thing of beauty
like the Jewel is wasted on such brutes!” She groaned and swore
under her breath, her face burning with anger and humiliation. The
moment she set foot on Rasta's soil, she had ceased to be Commander
Sonja Farrell and had become a worthless toy for everyone to play
rough with. She had been reduced to nothingness and cut off from her
magic—her only real strength—to be tied down and knocked around
like an angry child's ragdoll. Damn, damn, damn!

Unfortunately for Sonja,
she didn't have much time to mull over the injustice of her
situation; the pounding of feet and the hooves of those machine
horses sounded heavily over her head. Somebody was shouting
orders—she determined it to be the red-haired brute. A cacophony
like that could only mean one thing: an enemy. Sonja's tight lips
stretched into a smile. Her rescuers had made it, and once they got
her out of here, the Knights of the Jewel would wish they had never
come to know her at all.

The
din passed by the cellar door almost as soon as it had hit. Taking
several more hits to her injured pride, Sonja inhaled sharply and
cried out, “He-e-e-yyyy!”
She
had been beaten, bruised, tied down, and was now reduced to crying
out like a damsel in distress. You'll
go back to yourself again when this is over, Sonja, she
reassured herself as she raised her voice. Her calls turned to
shouts, which progressed to hollers, which finally escalated into
shrieks. She thrashed against her restraints, making as much noise as
she possibly could in her pathetic condition. She had screamed
herself completely hoarse before she realized that nobody was coming
for her and never would. The sounds of hoofbeats, clashing blades,
and gunfire had grown distant, indicating that the enemy—her
rescuers—had been driven away from the palace. Well,
she
thought resignedly, letting her head drop, I'm
screwed. I am well and truly screwed.

She
closed her eyes to the distant sounds of the battle.

Lovisa!
I'm going to see Lovisa!

As
Magus buttoned up the clean red boy's shirt he had chosen from his
new wardrobe, he shuffled and danced around his new room like a
little child anticipating some wonderful event. Those feet that felt
so heavy for so many years now couldn't keep still, and Magus had to
look down at them to make sure that they hadn't left the ground. He
had spent the night in a bed just as soft and warm as the one he had
in Lovisa's room, and he had just enjoyed the kind of breakfast he
had only ever seen through others' windows or read about in books:
three fluffy, sweet pancakes with blueberries baked inside and a hill
of thick whipped cream. Of course he had asked for more when he was
finished, but Archmage Leana, his new caretaker, smiled at him
good-naturedly and shook her head. “Just wait until lunchtime,
Magus,” she told him, “and we'll have sugar-plums! Would you like
that?”

“What am I to do while
you're away at the palace?” he asked Leana as he helped the
servants clear the breakfast dishes. They and Leana had been so kind
to him that he felt it was his duty to earn his keep. “You'll come
to the palace with me,” Leana told him. “You're already the talk
of the Magic Circle, you know! And the king himself has taken quite
an interest in your abilities.”

His
abilities.
Magus felt his stomach lurch. The image of soldiers crying out in
agony as their skin melted away from their bones came back to him, as
did the terrible dream that he had managed to forget. He began to
shake. Don't
think about it, Magus, he
ordered himself. He turned back to Leana and asked, “Would it be
all right if I were to visit Lovisa instead?” He added sheepishly,
“I wouldn't want to be in your way.”

“You wouldn't be in my
way, Magus,” she told him, tousling his hair. “But yes, you can
see Lovisa.”

Much
more than he anticipated sugar-plums, Magus anticipated a visit to
his sweet, gentle new friend who had treated him with kindness he had
never been shown before. He finished dressing and half-ran,
half-skipped out to the carriage where Leana was waiting for him. She
smiled prettily when she asked, “All set to go?” He nodded and
boarded, just barely catching himself from flinging into the seat. As
the carriage departed, he rested his head against the window and once
again took in the sights of city that was to be his home from now on.
Home.
The
word just didn't sound right to him, not yet. He tried not to think
about it, instead focusing his attention on the city, which was
leagues ahead of Aldine's capital city in terms of development.
Aldine had never thought—or perhaps did not possess the
technological ability—to separate its large cities into multiple
levels to minimize crowding. They had human janitors clean the
streets only when they could be bothered to clean them at all, and
they could never work fast enough to keep the streets from getting
dirty again almost as soon as they'd begun. Magus was captivated by
the mechanical street cleaners that worked so diligently at their
tasks. He admired the buildings that were tall enough to touch the
sky with their metallic spires, and he was warmed by the positive
energy that all of the people seemed to possess, even in a time of
war. Perhaps he might have fared better on the streets if the streets
back home were more like the streets here.
That's a load of bull, he
scolded himself, forcing such a thought away. The
streets are the streets, no matter where they are, and the streets
are cruel. He
would rather die than ever return to that life.

“You
know,” Leana said, interrupting Magus' thoughts, “the king would
like
to see you, perhaps tomorrow if not today. I know that must sound a
little scary to you, but our king is one of the kindest that you
could ever meet. You must understand that at a time like this, we
need all of the manpower we can possibly get, and the king is very
interested in a young man who can take out an entire army all on his
own.”

“I
don't want to do it!” Magus said quickly, without looking at her.
“I don't want to kill! I don't want to destroy! I never want to set
fire to another thing again!” Tears came to his eyes, and he
quickly shifted his thoughts to his friend Lovisa. She was a magic
user, and he couldn't imagine that she would ever use her magic to
kill. He wanted to be Lovisa's kind of magic user—a healer, not a
destroyer. He knew that he had the power to heal and restore; he had
discovered it in his many long years of practice. It sickened him
that the magic that had once been his only friend had become a tool
to be used for destruction and carnage. “I...I want to heal!” he
said, his tearful face giving way to an expression of fierce
determination. “I'll use my magic to care for others! I want to
heal
entire
armies, not destroy them! Let someone else be the destroyer. I'll be
the healer!” He turned to Leana and asked hopefully, “Could I do
that? Could I be a healer?”

“Oh, Magus...” Leana
put her arm around him and patted his shoulder gently. “Of course
you can be a healer! But Lovisa is still quite new to magic, and I'm
not skilled enough in the healing arts to teach you myself. I'll talk
to a few of my colleagues and see what they have to say about it.”
She smiled softly, and patted him again. “There is always a need
for healers.”

Magus returned her smile.
Still, he couldn't wrap his head around the idea of fighting in an
army, even as a healer. But the thought of using his magic to care
for others gave him a glorious feeling that he couldn't remember ever
having felt before now. Contentedly, he sank against the carriage's
seat and anticipated the sight of his friend, regarding him fondly
with her blue eyes just sparkling in the summer sun...

The
dirt road that led out to the Palace of the Jewel was too rough for
the carriage to manage. They abandoned it by the signboard, and Magus
heard Leana turn a key in a padlock. He reached for Leana's hand as
they walked. The air was still, the reeds and grasses lightly rustled
by the breeze that gave the two a welcome relief from the summer
heat. Something
is wrong, thought
Magus suddenly, and no matter how he told himself not to be silly, he
couldn't shake the thought. He turned to Leana, but the archmage's
face was neutral. He let go of her hand and quickened his pace.

“Magus!” Leana called
after him. “Where are you going?”

“There's something wrong,
Leana!” he said without looking back at her.

“Something
wrong with what?” she inquired, and Magus had to stop for a moment
to think about his answer. This feeling was mysterious, and for the
most part it was unfounded, but it affected him all the same.
“There's something wrong with the palace,” he said finally, “with
the knights...with Lovisa!” Then he darted ahead. His lanky legs
proved difficult for Leana to keep up with, but she followed him as
best as she could. When the princess brought the boy to her, and told
her of his troubled history and the immense but mysterious power that
he harbored, she had expected him to be more than a little strange.
Now, he was darting off in the direction of the Palace of the Jewel
as if he had always known the way, in hot pursuit of some unknown
threat that had made its way into his mind. Is
he psychic as well as magical? Leana
wondered. Nothing about Magus could surprise her anymore.

In
the distance, Leana heard the all-too-familiar sounds of magical
combat: sudden bursts of flames, the crackle of energy spells, the
abrupt strike of a bolt issued forth from a mage's hand, and
explosion after explosion at the points of impact. Mages were
clashing in the area, and even if it had been silent (as so many
spells were), she could sense the magic as if it was calling out to
her. “Magus!” she cried out. “Magus, stop! It isn't safe!
Magus, come back!”
But the boy was too driven by his impulse. The only way to stop him
was to catch him, and he was far too quick for that.

These
sounds were just as familiar to Magus as they were to Leana. He
recognized them from his long days of training—at the convent,
under his commanding officers, on his own during his street days—and
it was all destruction. There was no clerical magic that would create
such a racket. I
don't want to fight, Magus
thought to himself, but
if the palace—the knights—are under attack, then I will! I'll
fight for them! The
sound of a sudden heavy crash shook the ground beneath him, so that
he nearly tripped over his feet. The rumbling that ensued brought
rockslides to mind, but of course it wasn't a rockslide. Magus' heart
skipped a few beats. He closed his eyes and let himself be overtaken
by the wind around him. The gusts picked up, growing faster,
stronger, and he became one with them. They picked him up off of his
speedy legs, and he was flying. He forced himself ahead, opening his
eyes. The world was laid out beneath him now, and in spite of the
circumstances, it was quite a pleasant feeling. He had used the power
of flight to evade capture many times, and he was so quick about it
that no one ever noticed his escape. So
why didn't I just fly away when the knights caught me? As
soon as the question entered his mind, he knew the answer.

When Magus finally caught
up with the knights, he let out a cry. Only four—Ion, Troy, Alicia,
and Morgana—were still fighting. Eluani and Lovisa had been thrown
to the ground like forgotten ragdolls, and there was no sign of
Sanjaia or Rodin. Fury rose inside of Magus as he took in the sight
of his friend, pathetically sprawled out on the grass and struggling
to lift her head. Everytime she tried, it was forced back to the
ground with a pained grimace, and he thought he heard a groan escape
her lips.

When Magus caught sight of
their enemies, the boiling anger inside of him spilled over. He knew
the two of them all too well; Sonja's two subordinates, who took
sadistic pleasure in boxing his ears and singing his skin with their
flames. They wielded the two artistically-carved staves that they so
often brought down over his head whenever they felt like it—such a
horrible waste of such beautiful staves that the students at the
mages' convent would've killed to have! Magus released his anger in
the form of a thunderclap, and then another. The ring of sky around
him darkened to reflect what was inside. Another clap, and the brutes
turned their heads to look at him. With one shout and two quick
flashes of light, they crumpled to the ground.

Upon
landing, Magus ran to Lovisa's side and took her head in his hands. I
can heal her, he
told himself, I
know I can. But
the method of it evaded him. He had spent so long being used to
attack and destroy, with restoration channeled into rings and stones
that he no longer had.

“Magus...” In spite of
her pain, there was a smile in Lovisa's eyes. He patted her gently.
“I'll take care of you,” he told her. “You took care of me.”
Now she smiled for real. His magic was impulsive, fueled by whatever
was inside of him. So why didn't his painful desire to heal his
friend amount to anything at all? But oh, perhaps it did, for the
girl was finding it much easier to keep her head lifted.

Magus
hadn't heard Leana come up behind him, but now she knelt over Lovisa
and said, “Let me take care of her, Magus.” When Magus' face
fell, she said, “It's all right, you've done very well.” But
Magus would not leave his friend's side. He held both of her hands as
the archmage's staff lit up with a warm yellow glow that matched
Lovisa's hair. He looked to Eluani and saw that Morgana was tending
to her. I
haven't done well, he
thought. I
couldn't heal her. I couldn't heal either one of them. He
blinked rapidly to stop the tears that had come to his eyes. Lovisa
stirred as her energy returned, until finally, she sat up. “I can
take it from here,” she said to them both. “Thank you. And thank
you, Magus.”

“I've done nothing for
you,” Magus said despairingly.

“What are you talking
about?” asked Troy, who had come over to join them. “You took
down both of those bastards in one shot!”

“Two shots,” Magus
corrected him.

“Either way,” said
Troy, “you've got no business saying you've done nothing for us.”
He clapped Magus on the shoulder. Immediately, Magus felt a rush of
pride, and he looked down at his feet to hide his face. Of course he
had done something, but he did not feel he had the right to be proud
when he should have done so much more.

Sunday, June 26, 2016

Apple
Blossom starts her writing lessons on Monday. Today is Saturday, and
as per the time-honored educational tradition of the humans, I will
never give lessons on Saturdays and Sundays. In my childhood,
Saturdays and Sundays were reserved for sleeping in, Saturday morning
cartoons, and long days of play. Unfortunately, Apple Blossom doesn't
entirely get that luxury. She has her morning lessons with Beryl, as
well as her education and training in becoming the Greenwood's future
queen. Her teachers must be doing an excellent job with her, as she
is already as much a little queen as she ever could be.

Apple
Blossom has yet to tell Beryl that she will be studying under me. She
might be telling her right now, and I have a feeling that it will
give poor Beryl a case of the vapors. But her parents have already
given me their seal of approval, though it was a very reluctant one.
They were even more reluctant when they were told that Katie was
going to be my teaching assistant. They said several words to Apple
Blossom in tree-elven, which Apple Blossom later told me meant
something along the lines of, “This is getting entirely out of
hand.” But after some careful and persistent persuasion, they
finally agreed—under the condition that the queen would supervise
these lessons. I had no problem with that; honestly, I had been
waiting for an opportunity to get to know the queen better. The most
that I had ever interacted with her had been on that first day, at
Apple Blossom's birthday party. We
don't play with humans, Apple Blossom, she
had told her daughter then. Look at how much has changed in the space
of a summer!

I'm sitting in the garden, looking
toward the magnolia archway that had concealed a whole nother world
for so long. Since my first step beyond that archway, I've met a
princess, attended a royal birthday party, discovered a land of
elves, swam with mermaids, gotten into trouble, made new friends,
become a teacher, and entered into an alliance that will make
history. And of course, I have produced my greatest work of all time
and given it the greatest purpose. Any writer can churn out fairy
tales until they get lucky with a big seller, but I doubt that any
other writer out there has ever donated their work to the archives of
a kingdom of forest elves. My diary will make history. By the time
Apple Blossom becomes queen, a generation of Jadeites will be aware
that an alliance between the Jadeites and the humans not only works
out, but has produced something wonderful more than once. Of course,
I'll still be around when Apple Blossom is queen. I might even be her
royal scribe, or else the head of the brand new Department of Human
Affairs. Ha ha, that's a long way away.

I've never been more motivated to
write than I am right now. I set out into the land of the elves in
search of writing material, and came back with a steady supply of it
and so much more. This particular tale will never be for human eyes,
but that doesn't mean that I can't take a few elements here and there
for my future stories. One day, I could write about an unlikely
friendship between a human commoner and elven royalty, or about a
race of people that can channel nature magic through gemstones.
Perhaps I'll tell the story of a woman who finds herself in a hidden
woodland where humans are looked down upon. No one will ever have to
know where I've come up with such fanciful ideas. It's just Aidyn's
imagination running away with her again, just like it always does...

And of course, I will write for
Apple Blossom. I'll tell her stories that will make those eyes light
up with wonder. I'll weave her wonderful worlds to dream about and
beautiful images to fill her lively mind. Stories will be part of our
lessons. Naturally, she will learn to read my other stories just as
well as she will learn to read this one. I wonder if she's ever tried
to write a story before...

But
this story will forever belong to her, and to the Greenwood; it's the
first of what I can only hope will be many, many stories of a
friendship between humans and Jadeites. Wait, I don't need to hope! I
know there
will be many others, because I will write them all! And maybe
someday, Apple Blossom and Wildflower will write even more. Nature
magic is one thing, but if you ask me, writing is one of the most
powerful magics in the entire world, and it's the kind of magic that
can be shared among humans, Jadeites, tree elves, and whoever else
may be out there in those hidden areas of the world.

Katie's
been blowing up my phone for the past twenty minutes. I guess I
should get ready to go and pick her up now. I've got a tupperware tub
of black grapes waiting in the fridge, and my teaching materials and
A Dragon's Pride are
all packed up in my bag. All I need is Katie, and this diary...

12:56 PM

Hannah sent some burgers over for me
and Katie's lunch, and I wish that she had sent enough for Apple
Blossom and Wildflower. If they liked venison, then a hamburger would
absolutely blow their minds. I'll make sure they get one next time.

I'm curled up in the back of Katie's
car, writing away as we head on down to the magnolia archway. “I
don't want you to drive,” Katie told me, “I want you to write.
Your story needs to end on a decent note, because if you have a good
ending, then they'll want to hear more.” I've got the window
cracked open, and the air is surprisingly crisp and fall-like for so
early in September. It won't be too long before the leaves begin to
change, and the Greenwood will be painted shades of red, orange, and
gold. It's far too beautiful out to study in the library. I might
move our class out to the banks of the Bell's Rush, and if we're very
lucky, Katie will get to see the mermaids.

“Don't park in the woods,” I
warn Katie as the first spruces of the mini forest come into view.
“The guardians wouldn't appreciate that.” Nodding, Katie pulls
over in front of the spruces. “You're coming out, right?” she
asks me as she holds the car door open.

“Duh, of course I am,” I tell
her. “I just want to finish this up first. Wait for me down by the
magnolias.”

Katie sighs. “You know I can't get
past all that brush without your help.”

“You've done it before,” I
remind her, recalling the time she had scared the daylights out of me
and Apple Blossom by showing up unexpectedly.

“Oh, fine then,” she says. “I'll
be there.” So she goes off into the woods and leaves me alone to
muse over the end of my summer adventures. It doesn't feel like an
ending at all, but a beginning: the beginning of a friendship, the
beginning of an adventure, the beginning of an alliance, the
beginning of a new chapter in both the history of the Jadeites and my
own writer's life. I'm gathering up my bag and getting out of the car
now. I don't want to leave Katie waiting—she isn't too fond of
spiders either, even though she isn't as squeamish around them as
Janelle is. I can write and walk at the same time, I've done it many
times before.

Katie's made it through the brush, I
see. It isn't so hard to get to the Greenwood if the guardians want
you to be there. When they don't want you to, it's another story.
There they are, perched high upon their webs in the leaves above my
head, watching to make sure that I keep Katie out of trouble. I nod
to them. They know that the Greenwood is my second home. I would
never do anything to bring harm to it.

Apple Blossom's here. I hear her and
Katie's cheery chatter. My human best friend and my Jadeite best
friend are chatting it up as if they have been best friends from the
very start. From this moment on, this diary belongs to Princess Apple
Blossom, of the Greenwood. Let it be known that within this book is
the one-hundred-percent true story of the very first true friendship
between a human woman and Jadeite royalty. The story of my adventure
shall be a message to the future generations of the Jadeites of this
Greenwood that all it takes to form a revolutionary alliance is just
a little bit of kindness and an open mind. There has been an alliance
before, there has been an alliance again, and let us hope that from
here on out, there will be many, many more.

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

“You
know,” Apple Blossom said to me as she watched Wildflower copy down
the words I had written for her, “it doesn't make very much sense
that we can speak two languages, but only write one.”

“That's
a point,” I told her, and when she tilted her head at me in
confusion, I clarified, “You're right,” before cramming two
grapes in my mouth.

“It
just doesn't seem right to me at all,” Apple Blossom went on. “The
English language was passed down through Chokana, right? So why
didn't she ever teach her child how to write it?”

“She
might not have known how to write,” I told her. “In those days, a
lot of women were never taught to write, or even read. It was a
pretty backwards time.”

“I'd
like to learn to write English,” Apple Blossom said. She took a big
bite out of a grape and swallowed it before asking what I knew she
had been planning to ask all along: “Will you teach me?”

I
would have loved to teach
Apple Blossom how to write English. Wildflower had only been at it
for a few weeks, and yet she was doing so well that it was almost
time for her to go from writing words to short sentences. But
if I taught both Wildflower and Apple Blossom, I had a feeling that I
would end up having to teach everybody. “I would love to, Apple
Blossom,” I told her, “but I'm not sure when I'm going to have
the time. You know that I have a lot of writing to do.”

“If
you have time to teach Wildflower,” Apple Blossom insisted, “then
you have time to teach me. You can teach me while you're teaching
her.”

“Hmm...”
I played with the thought in my head, just as Wildflower handed me
her finished paper to look over. It wouldn't be too much of a stretch
to teach the two of them together. Sure, Apple Blossom was five years
older, but the writing would be just as new to her as it was to
Wildflower. They could copy down the same words and the same
sentences—the only difference might be the pace at which they
worked. I had never tutored any students before Wildflower (and
Wildflower was a perfectly lovely student),
but I knew that she was doing well under my instruction. I knew even
more as I looked over the perfectly-copied words on her paper, beside
the little illustrations I'd asked Hannah to draw, and my heart
swelled with pride in my little student. “Excellent work,
Wildflower!” I exclaimed. “You did everything just right! I'm so
proud of you, sweetie!” I rewarded her with a hug and a handful of
eight big black grapes. She accepted them eagerly.

“Come
here, Apple Blossom!” I called to her, and she came running from
where she and Katie had been picking handfuls of new goldenrods. I
took A Dragon's
Pride out
of my bag. “We can read this,” I told her, “or we can read some
of the diary. Which one do you want?”

“Oh,
A Dragon's Pride,”
Hannah said. “That's a real good one; one of your better stories,
Aidyn.” She turned to Apple Blossom and said, “I bought my own
copy as soon as it went on sale.”

“She loves it,” I told her,
smiling at Apple Blossom. “So which will it be?”

“One after the other, please,”
Apple Blossom said politely. She added, “I mean, if you don't mind
it.”

“I don't,” I said, and then I
got an idea. “When you met Hannah and Janelle the other day,” I
told Apple Blossom, “I got home that evening and wrote all about it
in the diary. Would you like to hear what I have written?”

“Oh, yes, please!” Apple Blossom
said eagerly.

“Hey, I kind of want to hear that
too,” Hannah said, moving to sit beside Apple Blossom. Katie
gathered up her goldenrods and joined us. Wildflower continued to
scribble English letters down in her own diary, but I could tell that
she would listen once I started reading. I took out my diary, turned
to the page, and began to read.

Ever
since my adventures in the Greenwood had begun, I'd marveled at just
how much my diary—my very own life—had become a story. To Apple
Blossom, it was
a story, a story to listen to and comment on, to interject and
question, the equivalent of any other good book. Until today, I had
never shared my diary-story with anyone but her. But now, I regarded
the increasingly-attentive eyes of Katie and Hannah as I read this
small passage that featured nothing truly remarkable. I recounted
Janelle's fear of the spiders, the ugly sight of the spears lined up
along the Bell's Rush (I saw Katie's face fall as I admitted that I
resented her and the others just a little bit for being the reason
for blocking our entrance to the Greenwood), the picnic we had, and
Apple Blossom's little demonstration of the magic of jade essences.
Somehow, I had made these simple little events into a story worth
listening to. Somehow, I had turned this entire summer into a story
worth listening to. If I may allow myself to boast, it may be the
greatest story that I've ever written. And it's all true!

But
of course, it will never be published. Some stories, no matter how
great, were just never meant to be published—at least, not to
humans. But
what about to Jadeites? What might the true story of a friendship
between a human and the princess of the Jadeites mean to them? How
valuable would such a story be if it were found in the Grand
Greenwood Library, or even the castle's private archives?To have such a record around just
might provide the insight that the Jadeites need to consider a real
Jadeite-human alliance! In a way, one of those already existed,
through our friendship. Friendship was a sort of alliance.

I finished reading the entry. Apple
Blossom flashed me her signature smile and said, “Thank you for
reading, Aidyn. I'm glad that you wrote that.”

I'm glad that I wrote it too. I'm
glad that I wrote everything. “You're very welcome,” I told her
with a smile, before getting up and taking her by the hand. “I need
to talk to you real quick,” I said.

“Have I done something wrong?”
she asked, her eyes widening.

“Oh, no, dear,” I said, “not
at all! In fact, I have something to say that I think you're going to
like.” I led her over to the patch of goldenrods that she and Katie
had been picking. She bounced on her heels in anticipation of the
good news, and I couldn't help chuckling. I loved this merry little
fox so much, like she was my very own baby sister.

“Apple Blossom,” I began, “I
want to give my diary to you.”

“Give it to me?” she asked,
bewildered. “But why?”

“If
I give it to you,” I told her, “then the story will belong to the
Greenwood, forever. The story of a friendship between a human and
Jadeite, the story of my world and yours...” I was blown away by my
own solemnity, and had to pause for a moment. My goodness, I was
getting carried away. “I want you to have that, Apple Blossom. I
want the Greenwood to have it. I want the Greenwood's history to hold
on to the story of a real, true friendship between a human and a
Jadeite. You want an alliance, don't you? Well, you may not have
realized it, but there is
an alliance now. Our friendship is the alliance, Apple Blossom.”

“Nobody will be able to read it,”
Apple Blossom said, her voice just barely above a whisper.

“You'll be able to,” I said, my
lips curling into a smile, “once I teach you.”

“You're
going to teach me?” Apple Blossom's eyes were so wide that I
thought that they would take over her entire face. “You're going to
teach me to write and
to
read it? Are you really going to teach me, Aidyn?”

“Yes,” I said, and I realized
that I had made this decision the very moment she had asked in the
first place. “I'm going to teach you, because if I teach you, then
you will be able to teach everybody else. Someone's got to do it,
Apple Blossom. Someone's got to.”

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Katie
anxiously fiddled with the wire-wrapped tag around her neck as I
guided her through the thick brush and shrubbery that I had faced on
my first visit to the Greenwood, which felt so much longer than only
a month and a half ago. The events of the summer seemed to span a
year or even longer, and it was the kind of summer meant for stories.
I honestly cannot imagine life without Apple Blossom, the Greenwood,
and the Jadeites anymore.

We
paused frequently so that I could help Hannah and Janelle past
low-hanging vines, out of thickets that snagged at their pants and
shoes, and over branches resting in our way. At one point, Janelle
fell into my back, and I thought that she had tripped over another
branch. When I whirled around to catch her, her eyes were wide with
terror and she said, “I just saw this huge black spider, with long,
spindly legs. Which spider was that, Aidyn?” She spoke rapidly, as
she was apt to do when something scared her. I had warned them about
the spiders, but that made no difference to Janelle. Nothing in this
world would make Janelle okay with spiders. “I don't know every
spider in the Greenwood, Janelle,” I said, patting her on the
shoulder, “but the really big ones are usually Elder Guardians. In
that case, you'd better be on your best behavior, kid. The guardians
command respect, especially the elders.”

“Why
do they have to be spiders?”
lamented Janelle, clearly troubled over the idea of having to show
respect to a spider.

“Because
most people react to them the same way that you do,” I said with a
cheeky grin.

“This
is the part with the spiders,” Katie warned as we neared the
collection of webs that served as the gates to the Greenwood.
“Janelle, you'd better get behind me and Hannah...oh! There's that
really big one that Aidyn calls the Grand Elder Guardian. My
goodness, it startled me!”

“He
startled
you,” I corrected her. I peered through the threads of the web,
which was lowered as I had expected it to be. Apple Blossom had
requested for the guardians to allow my friends through, stating that
any friends of mine were also friends of hers, but even requests from
the princess had their limits—one human was more than enough. “You
all wait right here,” I told my friends. “Don't touch anything,
don't move, and if you see a spider, for heaven's sake, just leave it
alone!”

“I see a great many spiders,”
Janelle remarked anxiously. I got down on my hands and knees and
crawled under the Grand Elder Guardian's web. “I'm sorry about
this,” I said, nodding to the spider once I got on my feet. “I'm
just looking for the princess, that's all. Apple Blossom! We're here,
Apple Blossom! We're all waiting for you!”

“You're
crazy, Aidyn!” said Hannah, but I ignored her and continued to call
out. Soon I was answered by the sound of swift little footsteps
making their way towards us. Apple Blossom emerged, her grass-green
ponytails flying out wildly behind her. I heard an audible gasp from
both Hannah and Janelle as they laid eyes on her for the first time.
She was so very human, and yet distinctly not.
She
flashed her iconic sunshine smile at the three of them, and then,
bouncing on her toes, she cried, “Katie! Hello, Katie! Welcome
back! I missed you!”

“You did?” Katie asked in
astonishment.

“I did!” Apple Blossom chirped.
“I really, really did! And oh, these must be your
friends...um...oh, I've forgotten their names!” She turned to me,
plainly embarrassed to have forgotten, and asked, “What are their
names again?”

“Hannah and Janelle,” I told
her, knowing they were too stunned to answer for themselves. They
looked less like they had seen an elf and more like they had seen a
ghost; they were rigid, with wide eyes and tight lips, and Janelle
was even paler than she had been when she found the spiders. “Come
on, you two,” I taunted them, “you aren't actually scared of this
little fox, are you?”

“Well...no,” Hannah choked out,
“not scared, just...” But she wouldn't say anything beyond that.
Slowly, as if in a dream, she knelt down to Apple Blossom's level.
“Stay on your side of the web,” I warned her as Apple Blossom
scampered over to her. “I'm real,” she assured them, extending a
hand that held a rounded, polished deep green jade stone—a tag.
Hannah accepted the tag and turned it over in her hand, before
holding it out in front of her eyes as if to make sure it was
actually there. “What...what is this for?” she stammered.

“If any humans come around here,”
Apple Blossom explained, “my mother, the queen, likes to make sure
to keep track of them. So she has them tagged, and then we know just
how many humans have come by, and we know to keep an eye out for
them. If any of them come back, bearing a tag, then we know that they
have been here before. So far, eight humans—including the two of
you—have come around the Greenwood, but Aidyn was the first to ever
make it past the Grand Elder Guardian upon her return.”

“Thanks to you,” I told her.

“And that would make you the
second, third, and fourth!” she said merrily, passing Janelle her
tag. “They say 'seven' and 'eight' in tree elven,” she told them
when they squinted their eyes at the strange carved lines.

“Where are the taggers?” I
asked, though I was glad that they hadn't shown up. “I called them
off,” Apple Blossom answered. “I wanted to see your friends
before anybody else got a chance to!”

Hannah and Janelle didn't know what
to say. They looked at the tags, at eachother, at me, at Apple
Blossom, and at the massive web that kept them from taking a step
further. Finally Katie asked, “May we go in?”

“You may,” Apple Blossom said
politely, “but I promised that I wouldn't bring you past the bridge
today. But that's just fine, you'll get to see my village and my
castle some other time.” She took a few steps forward, so that she
stood directly under the arrangement of webs spun by the guardians.
“Oh, guardians of the Greenwood,” she said with the reverence of
a priest, “I, the Princess of the Greenwood, would appreciate it
very much if you would allow my new friends to come into our lands. I
know that they are human, and that it is not our custom to allow
humans into the Greenwood, but I also know that not every human means
any harm—in fact, I have yet to meet any that do. These are friends
of Aidyn, and you know her well. I know that Aidyn would never bring
anyone in who meant to cause trouble or harm to the Greenwood. As the
princess, it is my duty to protect the Greenwood and its people, so
if I thought these humans meant any harm, I would not be asking for
them to be allowed in at all. Do you trust me? Do you trust Aidyn?”

That girl never, ever ceases to
amaze me. She can go from silly little girl to solemn future queen to
reverent monk and back again with zero effort. I looked at my
friends, who were all as stunned as I was to see a ten-year-old girl
carry on like that. But when the Grand Elder Guardian actually began
to disassemble his web, adjusting and twisting and pulling at the
threads in order to comply with the princess' request, it was like
watching something out of a movie, only it was happening right before
our eyes! Thread by thread, the web fell away and left a
reasonably-sized space for my friends to duck their heads through.
The other guardians followed, dismantling their own webs to begin
reassembling them in higher positions on the branches. Janelle
squeaked and hid her face in her hands, and I pitied her. She cared
more about the movement of spindly spider legs than the real magic
that was unfolding right in front of her.

“Come
on in,” Apple Blossom said cordially, as the Grand Elder Guardian
worked at reassembling his web. I took Hannah and Janelle by the hand
and the five of us started off together. “But how did you do it?”
Hannah asked breathlessly. “How
did
you do it? They...spiders don't just do
that!”

“They do if their princess asks
them to,” Apple Blossom said with a bit of a smug grin. I had a
feeling there was just a little bit more to it than that; surely, the
jade stone around her neck had something to do with it.

On the way to the bridge, the haze
that my friends had fallen into faded away. They were full of the
same kind of questions that I had asked on my first day: “Are you
really an elf? “What is a Jadeite?” “What is the Greenwood?”
“What are the jade essences?” “What happened to the humans that
came by before Aidyn?” “Why don't your people like humans?”
Apple Blossom answered each one with the patience of a proper
princess, but this time around she had answers that she had not had
for me—such as the Jadeites' connection to humans, and how it
contributed to her own inherent humanity. A couple of times, the
girls had to pause to take it all in. “I feel like I'm in a fairy
tale,” Hannah said at one point, and Janelle asked, “Are you sure
I'm not dreaming?”

“Oh, no,” Apple Blossom had told
them, “I'm very real.”

At the bridge, we found that Apple
Blossom had set up a picnic for us, and that a row of spears lined up
as a makeshift gate along the Bell's Rush dared us to go any further
into the Greenwood. It felt so wrong to see the Greenwood blocked off
like that, and I couldn't help but feel resentful towards my friends
for inadvertently causing it. Apple Blossom, however, carried on as
if the spears were just another part of the scenery. She motioned for
us to take our seats. I squealed when I spotted the bowl of deep red
cranberry pudding sitting in the middle of the blanket. “Oh my
goodness, Apple Blossom! Did Raindrop's mother make this again?”

“She did,” Apple Blossom said,
beaming. “I asked her for it.” I helped myself to two big
spoonfuls and passed the rest around to my friends, who eyed it
skeptically. “You have got to try this pudding!” I told them.
“You will never have tasted anything better in your life!” They
inspected the rest of the food: venison, pork loaf, fresh berries,
buttery yellow peaches, and the light, fluffy bread that the Jadeites
call “silk bread.” I wished that I had thought to bring grapes.
These were foods that I had eaten and learned to appreciate at our
lunches and dinners throughout the summer, but of course my friends
chose the familiar fruits and dainty cuts of the pork. I caught
Hannah prodding at her pudding like a skeptical three-year-old, and I
sighed.

“Do you have any more questions
for me?” Apple Blossom asked. “Aidyn and Katie had a lot of
questions when we met.”

“Well...” Janelle looked up at
the leaves on the trees as if searching for a question up there.
Finally, she said, “Why did you want us to come here?”

Apple Blossom gave her a solemn
smile. “I've told you that the first Jadeite was the child of a
human and a tree elf,” she said in her most queenly way. “That
means that there has been an alliance before, and so there can be one
again.”

Apple Blossom had brought a few of
her toys with her—a little wooden ball, three long, colorful
painted sticks, and four shiny wooden rings—and after we ate she
coaxed us into playing a few games. Katie and I were perfectly
willing to play catch, roll rings down the little bumps and slopes
along the Bell's Rush, kick off our shoes to wade, and chase
eachother through the woods like squirrels. But Hannah and Janelle
had returned to their original state of hazy bewilderment. They kept
to themselves, wandering around and regarding everything with the
confusion of Alice after a tumble down the rabbit hole. Apple Blossom
scurried over to them and asked, “Don't you want to play with us?”

“Not right now,” Hannah replied
somberly.

“Maybe later on,” Janelle tacked
on.

“Just give them a few moments,
Apple Blossom,” I said in response to her disappointment. “You
know that this is very new to them.”

But it took more than just a few
moments. When Apple Blossom realized that they weren't going to open
up anytime today, she took a seat between the two of them and took
their hands. “I'm sorry you don't want to play with us,” she said
in a voice that would have melted the heart of anybody who had one.
“What would you like to do, then?”

“I'd like to know, once and for
all, if this is real or if this is all just a dream or an elaborate
prank,” Janelle said. I could have slapped her! She had watched
spiders disassemble and reassemble their webs at the command of a
little girl, for heaven's sake! How much more proof did she need? If
Apple Blossom hadn't been right there, I would've gone off on her.
But then an idea struck me. “Hey, Apple Blossom,” I said, “why
don't you show them some of your magic?”

“Oh, yes!” Katie piped up. “I'd
like to see some magic!” I grinned at Hannah and Janelle, whose
faces still reminded me of two stupid does who had been wandering
around on the highway for too long. “Go ahead, Apple Blossom,” I
coaxed her.

“What should I do?” she asked,
looking at Katie and I for approval.

“Hmm...” I tapped my finger
against my chin in thought. Any sort of magic would be enough to blow
their minds, so I settled for something simple. I broke off a few
boughs of a nearby shrub of inkberry and handed them to her. “Make
these change colors,” I said, “like you did to those cranberry
greens down at the bog! Can you do that?”

“I can!” Apple Blossom said
merrily. Immediately, she began sorting the boughs aside, mentally
deeming certain ones as the most worthy of color-changing. She
gathered a small handful and ran her fingers over them in the same
way she had done for the cranberry greens. It was such simple magic
with no real purpose behind it other than amusement, and yet it was
enough to have my friends completely captivated. Katie watched with
her mouth wide open and eyes like an owl's, and Hannah and Janelle's
eyes widened as each leaf turned from forest green to pink, gold,
red, blue, or purple in the girl's fingers. Apple Blossom was
enjoying herself and didn't seem to notice just how much she had
amazed her audience. She smiled contentedly as she worked each leaf,
and when she finished she began bending them into colorful crowns.

I turned to my friends and flashed
them my smuggest grin. “How real is it now?” I asked.

After a few moments, Janelle
answered breathlessly, “It...it is real. And it's magic!”

About Me

I'm Star Nova, and I like to tell stories. This blog used to be more topical, but then just became a place where I could easily hold my stories. I have several short stories and two big works in progress, as well as some old crap and some pending revisions OF some old crap.
I write in order to share how I see the world, from my own perspective. If you're here, you're probably here from Tumblr or Twitter. I hope you like my stories. And if you don't, I hope you at least read them before you decide that. (: